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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700516">memories of cog</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kondrakii/pseuds/kondrakii'>kondrakii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SCP Foundation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Descriptions of blood and gore, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, fuck icebergs suicide all my homies hate icebergs suicide, my only talent is icegears angst, ooc what else did you expect from me, this is just gears being depressed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:31:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kondrakii/pseuds/kondrakii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had taken a while for Gears to reach this conclusion, even as he was sitting in a puddle of his boyfriend’s blood, gathering bits of flesh in his hands as he tried to piece him back together."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Gears/Dr. Iceberg (SCP Foundation)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>memories of cog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>icegears brainrot. please enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Iceberg was gone. </p>
<p>It had taken a while for Gears to reach this conclusion, even as he was sitting in a puddle of his boyfriend’s blood, gathering bits of flesh in his hands as he tried to piece him back together. </p>
<p>Iceberg couldn't be gone, he kept telling himself. Iceberg wouldn’t just leave. </p>
<p>The gun was sitting on the floor, glinting silver in the shitty fluorescent lighting. A faint buzzing from the lights filled the otherwise deathly silent room.</p>
<p>Gears sat in the puddle of blood, his dead lover in his arms, his white lab coat stained red, and felt nothing but the freezing chill of loneliness. </p>
<p>Gears went through the rest of his days alone. </p>
<p>He would walk to the Foundation, do his job, then walk home to the apartment he and Iceberg once shared. Icebergs favorite mug was still in the sink, unwashed-- Icebergs pills and vitamins were still on top of the fridge, packed into the small blue basket Gears had gotten him for Easter, even though neither of them were Christian. </p>
<p>Gears remembers, faintly, how prettily Iceberg had laughed at it. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Gears, neither of us are Christian! Why did you get me this?” Iceberg giggled to himself, his hand placed over his mouth.</em>
</p>
<p>Iceberg had always covered his smiles around Gears. Gears wishes that he could have seen more of them. </p>
<p>Gears takes off his lab coat and kicks off his shoes-- a bad habit he had retained from Iceberg-- but leaves the scarf on. </p>
<p>The blue, cotton scarf that was always wrapped around Icebergs shoulders. </p>
<p>
  <em>“You know, Gears, I can put on this scarf by myself, right? Like, I’m not an invalid.”</em>
</p>
<p>Gears had wrapped the scarf dutifully around Icebergs shoulders every morning, kissing the man on the lips before sending him out the door first. </p>
<p>But now, there was no one else to wear the scarf besides Gears. <br/>Gears padded down the hall, going into the bathroom. Supplies were littered around-- a pale pink comb, a soft grey scrunchie, small hair clips for when Iceberg’s hair got too long. </p>
<p><em>“Hey Gears, would you mind brushing my hair out? It’s gotten frozen to my neck again!”</em> </p>
<p>Gears looked over at the towels hanging from the rack. </p>
<p>A fluffy blue and white towel hung next to each other.</p>
<p>Gears left the bathroom, and went to his bedroom. </p>
<p><em>“God, Gears, your bedroom is so boring! Why is it so untouched? C’mon old man, we’re gonna paint your bedroom.”</em> </p>
<p>“...it was <em>our</em> bedroom.” Gears grumbled, setting down his computer bag and falling onto the fluffy blue sheets. </p>
<p>The walls of his bedroom were painted in a happy yellow, with pictures placed over the desk and on top of the wardrobe. </p>
<p><em>“You need reminders of everyone you love, otherwise you won't be happy!”</em> </p>
<p>Gears figured that he would never be able to forget the person he loved most, regardless of reminders. </p>
<p>Iceberg was the only remarkable person in his life.</p>
<p>Iceberg was gone. </p>
<p>He couldn't take care of him.</p>
<p>He failed him.</p>
<p>Gears failed him.  </p>
<p>A tight feeling grew in Gears’ throat, but no tears came. A rush of emotion, sadness, anger, swept through the man, but his face remained stoic. Not a sound escaped his lips. Except for one.</p>
<p>“Fuck.”</p>
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